Beneath the Opera House
by immo
Summary: Decades later, something has awakened a spirit, long thought banished from the famous Paris Opera House...
1. Awakening

Beneath the Opera House: Awakening  
  
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction  
  
immo - immo@hamena.org  
  
"No! Let me go!" She struggled within their grasps, but couldn't escape.  
  
"Élise...! Let her go!" Danielle struggled valiantly, but a punch in the gut doubled her over.  
  
"Danielle!" Élise was dragged away unceremoniously. Struggling only got her more beatings, but she struggled  
  
anyways. "Why are you doing this?!"  
  
Kristin, the leader of the group, looked at her with digust, and spat on the girl. The sheer malevolence in  
  
her eyes made Élise shrink back. Yanking Élise up to her feet so they were eye level, the blonde sneered at her.  
  
"Because I hate you."  
  
A sudden, sharp pain exploded at the back of Élise's head, and all she could remember before she plunged  
  
into the darkness was someone mentioning something about leaving her in the catacombs...  
  
~~~  
  
She was suffocating! Now she kicked at the rough cloth that surrounded her, clawed at it, afraid for  
  
Danielle, afraid they might have hurt her friend.  
  
"Help!" Her voice was hoarse, and she couldn't help sobbing out her fear. "Help, God, anyone! Please!"  
  
Finally, her hand caught a hole in the sack, and she ripped at it, tearing through the material, until she  
  
was out in the open, gulping in cold, damp air.  
  
She panicked again, when she couldn't see anything, but then calmed her heart down when she realized she  
  
could see, she hadn't been blinded: the lights were just out. A dizzying pain hit her, made her nauseous. Clamping a  
  
hand over her mouth, she crawled away, got up to her knees and emptied out her stomach on the floor.  
  
Where was she?  
  
The steady drip-dripping of water could be heard...  
  
"Hello?"  
  
All the answer she got was the sound of small, tiny claws scratching against the stone floor. Rats. She  
  
*hated* rats. She tried to get up to her feet, but collapsed back on the floor when the simple act of trying set her  
  
whole right leg on fire with pain.  
  
"Is anybody here?!" Élise called out into the darkness again, hopelessly. The realization of where she was  
  
slowly sunk in, just as her eyes slowly got accustomed to the darkness. She recognized these walls, slick with  
  
moisture. They had taken her down here before, thrown her down here. Except that passageway they took her to, she  
  
remembered, and it had light.  
  
She was deeper now, she could tell by how cold it was.  
  
The catacombs below the Paris Opera House.  
  
She sniffled. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she could see that the light fabric came away stained with  
  
something dark. Her nose was bleeding.  
  
Bringing her hand up to her nose, she wiped at the blood, and made a noise at the pain the action caused.  
  
The bleeding will stop soon, but she had to find her way out of this labyrinth.  
  
Shaking her hand free of the dark liquid, the blood splattered on the ground and the walls, and the area  
  
seemed to freeze for one second. The drip-dripping of water stopped. Silence reigned in the passageway, until a  
  
sudden wind, like a sigh, rushed through, and proper time resumed.  
  
...Christine...  
  
The hairs on the back of Élise's neck stood up, and she shivered. She could swear she had just heard  
  
something...  
  
There.  
  
The distant sound of shoes, making a staccato rythym on the stone-cobbled ground.  
  
And it was coming closer.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
A light. Dim. But growing steadily brighter. Bringing up her hand to shield her eyes from the light, she  
  
waited patiently for whoever it was coming towards her. The steps came closer, and the light blinded her. Élise  
  
could make out the figure of a man, but that was it.  
  
"Monsieur?" Élise blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, the latern--"  
  
The light swung away from her face, and the man turned around, walking away.  
  
"Hey!" Élise struggled to her feet, using the wall as a support. The light turned a corner, and was fast  
  
fading. "Please! Don't leave!"  
  
Limping along, she ignored the pain. Whoever it was, would lead her out of here.  
  
"Please..." Tears made their way out of the corners of her eyes, and she bit onto her lower lip, until she  
  
drew blood. She would get out of here...  
  
Her foot caught on some uneven pavings, and she fell to the ground, the air knocked out of her, setting her  
  
whole chest afire with pain.  
  
"Please... monsieur, wait for me..." She pushed herself off the ground, and could hear the sound of steps,  
  
approaching again.  
  
"Levez-vous."  
  
The voice was soft, but it held something in it, something that made her obey, ignore the pain. More like,  
  
the pain was not part of her anymore... she was aware... but was not, as the voice started humming a slow tune...  
  
~~~  
  
"Élise... Élise, wake up."  
  
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the drowsiness. Awoke to Danielle's face hovering over hers  
  
worriedly.  
  
"Danielle," Élise's face broke into a smile, and she winced right away at the pain. Reaching up, she stroked  
  
the side of her friend's face, felt the turmoil subside as the dark-eyed brunette caught her hand and planted a kiss  
  
on the palm of it.  
  
"Élise, my god, I thought you'd never wake up."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm not that easy to kill." Élise looked around the sparse room, recognizing it for the  
  
manager's office. Suddenly, she remembered how she got into this predicament in the first place. And who had helped  
  
her out.  
  
"Danielle, there was this guy who lead me out of the basement... where is he?"  
  
Danielle regarded Élise strangely, and smoothed down the few unruly curls on Élise's head. "Élise, what are  
  
you talking about?"  
  
"There was this guy, he helped me out of the catacombs." Élise looked around the room again. "Where is he?  
  
And who is he? I would like to thank him."  
  
"Élise, I think they hit you a little too hard." Danielle frowned. "We found you in a storage room."  
  
The reminder of the injuries she had gotten made her remember them clearly, and now she lay back, groaning  
  
at the pain. "What happened to Kristin?"  
  
"Same thing as always," Danielle looked disgusted. "One of her lackeys took the blame, and Kristin's father  
  
offered to help fund the next major production. Generous of him, n'est pas, mon cherie?"  
  
"Oui. I wonder what caused this sudden generosity?" Élise sighed, knowing that the abuse wouldn't stop. The  
  
managers' hands were easily greased with easy money. They ignored Kristin's antics, because her father, Signor  
  
Giudicelli, was an avid opera-goer, and a great patron.  
  
"We have to tell someone!" Danielle's hand clenched into a fist.  
  
"Who'll listen to us, Danielle?" Élise was tired. She looked up at the clock, then wincing, pushed herself  
  
up to a sitting position. "My sister will be here to pick me up soon. She's going to raise hell if I'm late."  
  
"You mean she'll raise hell when she sees you like this."  
  
Leaning heavily on Danielle, Élise drew from the taller girl's strength. "Did they hurt you?"  
  
"No more than usual."  
  
They turned off the light, and exited the room.  
  
There was silence...   
  
Then in the corner of the room, the darkness there seemed to unfurl, like a flower blossoming... and a man  
  
stood there, looking around the room.  
  
He had been so sure... so sure that he had FELT Christine's presence. He could sense it. He had been asleep  
  
for a very long time, aware of all the changes to his opera house, but remaining passive. But not anymore. She had  
  
come back.  
  
And somehow, this girl was the key.  
  
Golden eyes narrowed behind the white mask that covered his face. 


	2. Élise Chagny

Beneath the Opera House: Élise Chagny  
  
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction  
  
immo - immo@hamena.org  
  
author's notes: So here's the second part of this story. :) I've used some french phrases in here, and I don't know  
  
if they're correct or not... but for you people who know french, I hope you get the gist of it and I haven't  
  
murdered that language in this harmless fanfic. For the people who don't speak a word of french, don't worry,  
  
there's gonna be translations at the bottom of the story when this is done. I will not do it any more after this.  
  
Its just to set some character.  
  
Love it? Hate it? Reviews tell me a lot. They also prompt me to work when I see there's an audience. Happy readings,  
  
boys and girls.  
  
~~~  
  
"Élise... again?" Her sister looked at Élise wearily. She could tell, even from far away, that something was  
  
wrong with her little sister. She leaned heavily onto Danielle for support, and gave Anna a jaunty wave when she saw  
  
that she had been spotted.  
  
"Élise!" Anna hurried over to them, and caught her face between her hands, tilting Élise's face this way and  
  
that, looking at her newest collection of bruises. Anna's face darkened significantly, when her little sister hissed  
  
in pain at her gentle touch. "I'm going to kill that flea-blown bitch."  
  
"Your sister always has the most creative swear words, Élise." Danielle grinned, and thanked Anna when she  
  
moved to support Élise on the other side.  
  
"Oof! Élise, you have GOT to stop eating all those sweets." Danielle complained, as she slipped into the  
  
Volkswagen Jetta beside the girl. "Ow! Watch it, I'm injured!"  
  
"Serves you right!" Élise stuck out her tongue at her friend. "You're the loser who made fun of my weight!"  
  
"Kids! Enough!" Anna turned around and glared at them. Élise looked down, in mock shame, and Danielle just  
  
sat there, grinning at Anna.  
  
*"Ah, mon chéri, vous ne pouvez pas rester fou à moi." Danielle purred.  
  
"You. Are. incorrigible." Anna shook her head, but Danielle had worked her magic already; Anna's lips pulled  
  
up into a tentative smile, but quickly went all serious again. "But really. We need to do something about this  
  
situation with Kristin."  
  
"I'm not leaving." Élise took on a stubborn tone. "I will not be bullied."  
  
"If I can't beat some sense into you, I'm going to beat some sense into that little brat!"  
  
"No! Sis, please. If you do, you'll get in so much trouble!" Élise had no doubt in her mind that her sister  
  
would try to do exactly as she said. Kristin liked to bully other girls. And if they fought back, they were never  
  
seen again. Never seen again, in the sense that Kristin asked her daddy to threaten the management until the  
  
offending member of the chorus/ballet/stagehand/whoever pissed her off, was gone. And if Kristin couldn't get Anna,  
  
Élise would be the next best target. Élise wasn't even a permanent resident of the Opera House. She was hired part-  
  
time for the summer, doing oddjobs. Mostly, she fetched stuff for people, looked for wayward ballerina shoes, helped  
  
people into costumes...  
  
"Élise, it really hurts me to see you like this."  
  
"Don't worry, Anna. Kristin will probably find a new target soon." Élise lied. "Then she'll forget about me,  
  
and I'll be alright."  
  
"When you become a prima donna, little sister, remember what I said: It *is* fair to use your power to make  
  
someone's life miserable. Especially if its Kristin's."  
  
The car pulled up at the side of the road, next to a building that was like all the other buildings that  
  
lined the road. The only difference about this building was that Élise and Anna called it home. Anna and Danielle  
  
helped Élise up the stairs to the little flat they called home, and into her room.  
  
"Girls? Are you home--mon dieu!" Monsieur Chagny ran forward and caught Élise by the shoulders. "Again? Tch,  
  
Élise, I am glad you want to be a singer and not a ballerina, you've fallen down the stairs so many times!"  
  
"I'm sorry papa, I'm just clumsy." Élise smiled bravely. "I am no pushover. Don't worry, I'll be alright."  
  
Anna watched the scene helplessly, and opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she felt  
  
Danielle's lips, whispering against her ear.  
  
"Don't, Anna. You know how she loves to sing. She will go whether her father knows the truth or not."  
  
Danielle placed a firm hand on Anna's arm. "It will save him much anguish. Élise is an adult, even though you still  
  
see her as a kid, she has to fight her own fights."  
  
Anna seemed to be fighting some internal battle, then finally gave in and nodded listlessly.  
  
"Good girl. Now, we're going to go grab a cappucino at that nice little place, just down the street!"  
  
Danielle started pulling Anna towards the door. "Monsieur, I'm borrowing Anna for a bit, I'll be back soon!"  
  
"Mademoiselle Beauchamp, bring her back by midnight!"  
  
"You must be mistaking her for Cinderella, monsieur! Anna's not pretty enough--ow! Stop hitting me, Anna!  
  
Ah, okay, no more cracks about your hideous face! Ah! That hurt! Monsieur Chagny, I don't think I want her anymore--  
  
ow! Okay, that *really* hurt..."  
  
Their voices faded down the stairs, and Élise couldn't help grinning. Danielle had been one of the best  
  
people to have around. The brunette was well-liked, even by the evil Kristin. The older girl was currently enrolled  
  
in one of the ballet schools that were within the building. That was how the family met Danielle, actually. Anna had  
  
been enrolled in the school also and had met Danielle there, and the mischevious girl had wormed her way into  
  
everyone's hearts. Unfortunately, Anna had to give up ballet when their mother died. Since Anna wasn't in the school  
  
anymore, and worked most of the time, Danielle took care of Élise and watched out for her, and was like a dear  
  
sister.  
  
Élise had been ten at the time, and Anna had been twelve when their mother died.  
  
The whole tragedy of their mother dying, was life-altering, but they were taught by their maman well. She  
  
had been sick for a long time before finally succumbing to the disease. She had lectured them, told them the best  
  
way to honour her was to smile through adversity. To take care of their papa who could be so scatter-brained some  
  
times. And also to take care of each other.  
  
Yes, the sisters listened closely and tried their best to smile through adversity, and they did persevere.  
  
But neither of them could hold back the tears when they closed the lid to their beloved mother's coffin. They wept  
  
bitterly that day, and many other days, in private.  
  
~~~  
  
...there was a boat... a house in the middle of a lake, in a place where night was... eternal...  
  
And, right there...  
  
She could just see if, if she squinted... a man. Holding a lantern...  
  
Mist curled at her feet, and she looked down, then did a double-take. She was in a dress. A very old-  
  
fashioned dress by the looks of it.  
  
...Christine...  
  
She wanted to ask the figure 'who are you?' but found that she couldn't speak, as the most enchanting music  
  
coaxed its way out of the man's throat. The voice compelled her, called to her. And she answered the summons.  
  
Come with me.  
  
And she trusted that blissful message, and stepped onto the boat...  
  
~~~  
  
Élise drifted out of her dream slowly, awakened by a slight pressure on her chest. Then the pressure moved,  
  
and walked up to her head and plopped itself down on face.  
  
"Pbbbbblleeeaapphh!!!" Élise spat/threw the monster cat to the foot of her bed, where it let out an  
  
indignant yowl. The tabby waddled back to Élise, lay down on Élise's stomach, rolled over, and began to purr.  
  
"You are *the* strangest cat in the world, Lily." Élise rubbed the cat's belly, and he let out a satisfied  
  
groan. "Of course, you're also a guy cat named Lily. So who can blame you?"  
  
The gender-bending cat purred some more.  
  
"Breakfast, Élise!" Anna hollered, her voice carrying to the room Élise and Anna shared.  
  
"Coming!" Élise called back. "Come on fatty, lets see if I can sneak you some food. That diet Anna has you  
  
on is not working. And maybe I can finish up the chores early and head over to the Opera House. I'm *positive* there  
  
was a man in the tunnels who helped me out."  
  
"You finish your food, and don't give any to fatty-cakes over there, okay?" Anna shot the fat cat a glare,  
  
and it meowed piteously. Miserable, he batted at the rice in his food dish. "Don't even try to topple that, you're  
  
not getting anything else if you do."  
  
The cat growled rebelliously, and left the room, tale waving agitatedly in the air.  
  
"As they say in english, diet is just 'die' with a 't' added to it, sis."  
  
"Don't listen to the english."  
  
"But their MTV is so good! Especially The US MTV."  
  
Anna frowned. "Don't get me started on the United States. Think they can throw their weight around all the  
  
time... accuse people of harboring terrorists..."  
  
Anna continued ranting, and Élise ate quietly, blocking out her sister with her own thoughts. Both her  
  
thoughts and her sister were interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"That must be Danielle." Anna wiped her hands on a tablecoth, and went to get the door. Her prediction was  
  
right, there was Danielle standing there grinning.  
  
"Cooked me breakfast, hun?" Danielle leaned forward and greeted Anna with a kiss on either side of her face.  
  
"Smells good."  
  
"Help yourself." Anna closed the door behind Danielle.  
  
"Morning, Élise." Danielle leaned down and landed a kiss on Élise's cheek, before sitting down for a  
  
breakfast of pancakes. Loading up her stack of pancakes, butter, strawberries and other things readily available  
  
that were for pancakes, Danielle dug in. "You feeling better?"  
  
"Just hurt a bit. Howabout you?"  
  
"I got this huge bruise across my side. You should see it!" boasted Danielle.  
  
Élise's eyes sparkled. "Well, look at my face! It looks like I got hit by a truck!"  
  
"I think I broke a rib!"  
  
"I think I should get my leg x-rayed, I can barely walk!"  
  
"You two sound like you're so proud of your injuries." Anna shovelled a few strips of bacon onto Élise's  
  
plate.  
  
"You'll grow as fat as my cat, Danielle."  
  
"More of me to go around." Danielle replied. Anna just sighed, knowing she had as much luck stopping Lily  
  
from eating, as she did Danielle. She plunked down a glass of milk for the ballerina, who muttered a 'merci' through  
  
a mouthful of pancakes.  
  
"I'm going to get dressed, than I'll be back."  
  
"You..." Danielle paused to take a gulp of milk. "Look good in that. What's wrong with what you're wearing  
  
now?"  
  
"I'm in a bathrobe." Anna rolled her eyes. "And its not appropriate for where I work."  
  
Anna went to her room, shutting the door. Anna worked in an office, while their papa took the jetta and went  
  
to work in a factory. He was gone by the time Élise was awake. Danielle would wake up early every morning and offer  
  
to drive Anna to work.  
  
What are friends for, right?  
  
"Okay," Anna came out of the room, her hair put up, her work clothes on. "Lets go, Danielle."  
  
"Oui." Danielle finished off the last of her milk and used a finger to wipe off a drop of syrup from the  
  
plate and lick it up.  
  
"Clear the dishes, okay, Élise?" Anna grabbed her purse. "Call me at work if you need anything, and I'm  
  
giving you permission to drop a sandbag on Kristin's head."  
  
"I'll be okay!" Élise waved goodbye. "Bye Danielle!"  
  
"See you later, shortstuff--hey!" Danielle turned to Anna, who had just taken her keys. "That's my keys!"  
  
"I'm driving. You're a maniac on the road."  
  
"I'm okay, really!"  
  
Soon as they left, Lily wandered back into the room, and wound himself around Élise's leg, purring.  
  
"Okay, but don't tell Anna!" Élise passed down a fluffy pancake. While Lily devoured his breakfast, Élise  
  
cleared the table, and straightened up the house.  
  
There was another knock at the door, suddenly.  
  
"Coming," Élise opened the door, and smiled at the person at the door.  
  
"Bonjour," Sean smiled. He stuck his head in and took a deep breath, then let out a depressed sigh. "I  
  
missed your sister's world famous breakfast?"  
  
"Yes, you did. And are you going to stand out there or are you going to come inside?"  
  
"I don't know, your hallway is especially dark and dreary..." Sean grinned at Élise's look. "Alright, I'm  
  
coming in--Jesus! What happened to you?!"  
  
Sunshine poured through the windows of the flat, clearly illuminating the ugly bruise on Kristin's cheek.  
  
Sean closed the door behind him, and dragged Élise over to a chair and sat her down, despite her protests.  
  
"I'm alright, really--"  
  
"Yes, yes. You're fine, you're alright, you're not made of glass." Sean held up a warning finger. "Sit."  
  
Élise obeyed meekly, watching Sean go to the fridge and take out an ice-pack.  
  
She protested again, but he just slapped the ice-pack onto the side of her face that was puffed up.  
  
"No excuses. Keep this over the bruise, fifteen minutes at least. It'll take the swelling down." Sean's face  
  
was a mask of fury. "It was Kristin, wasn't it? I don't usually hit girls, but for her, I'll make an exception."  
  
"Sean, no."  
  
"I've stood by long enough, Élise!" Sean knelt down in front of her. "She hurts you again, I'll hurt her."  
  
"Sean, you know what will happen--"  
  
"Your dream is not worth you getting beat up like this." Sean stood up, hands on his waist. "She's a  
  
malicious bitch."  
  
"My dream is worth everything," Élise said, dead serious. "Singing is my life."  
  
"And you have a beautiful voice..." Sean pursed his lips together. Élise did have a beautiful voice. But it  
  
was weak... so weak. And she'd been hanging around the Opera House for years now, even before her mother died. Élise  
  
was still a meek little thing, and when she was with the chorus, working with them, she could not be heard. But she  
  
rejoiced in being able to go there and be allowed to sing. The chorus overlooked her presence because they liked  
  
her. She didn't pay for lessons there, but she spent every second she could sneak away to be with the singers. She  
  
learned the songs along with the chorus, hummed and sang the soprano's part quietly to herself. And she would some  
  
times sing with them, though her voice would be drowned out by theirs.  
  
Élise hoped that their talent would rub off on her.  
  
Her hands clenched in her lap.  
  
"Sweetie, I didn't mean to make you upset." Sean's dark eyes looked at her mournfully, but she refused to  
  
look up at him. "I just... don't understand why anyone would want to sing that much."  
  
"It's... important to me."  
  
"Hey... look at me." Sean ducked down lower to catch her eye, and gave her a saucy wink. "Wait for me right  
  
here, alright?"  
  
The young man leaned forward, pecked a kiss on her cheek and shot out the door. He was back, moments later,  
  
breathing heavily. In his hand was a small boquet of colorful flowers, wrapped in crinkly brown paper and tied with  
  
a piece of twine.  
  
"Here." Sean blushed a bit. He hated the flower-giving thing, but Élise loved them. So he would always buy  
  
some for her whenever she felt down, or for special occasions. "Please, smile."  
  
"You might act like a punk some times, Sean Giry, but I bet your friends don't know you're the biggest mush  
  
in the world." Élise accepted the flowers, and hugged Sean.  
  
"I only do this for you," Sean said indignantly. "You should feel special. My mother doesn't even get  
  
flowers from me."  
  
"Yeah yeah... they should nominate you for the best boyfriend of the year award." She kissed him, forgetting  
  
about the pain and the icepack over her eye for a bit.  
  
"Damn straight." He grinned. "Would mademoiselle like to take a walk with me before she goes to work? I know  
  
you're only due there at four-thirty, so don't even think of saying no."  
  
Élise tried to smile. She really wanted to find whoever it was in the tunnels that night... but that could  
  
wait. But not long... not too long. There was a slow melody in her head that urged her to find its source...  
  
~~~  
  
translations:  
  
*Ah, mon chéri, vous ne pouvez pas rester fou à moi = my darling, you can't stay mad at me. 


	3. The Nightingale and The Angel

Beneath the Opera House: The Nightingale & the Angel  
  
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction  
  
immo - immo@hamena.org  
  
author's notes: Third installment. I'm really getting into the flow of this. Of course, that could be seen as bad,  
  
since exams are right around the corner... shit...  
  
For those who are curious, this story is taken mostly from the musical. It is present day. The book by Gaston Leroux  
  
was never written in this reality. And so, the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber was never created.  
  
Review me, review me, you'll get another one coming soon if you do! :D Tell me if I'm doing a good job or not, tell  
  
me if there are inconsistancies in the story, tell me, tell me, tell me! You want something done in the story? You  
  
gotta tell me that too. I can't read your mind. ;)  
  
~~~  
  
Sean had walked her to the Paris Opera House. Sure, it was a long walk from her place, but they had several  
  
hours. And Élise was early.  
  
The dancers were going through their routines, it was their stage time. The next show was in a week, and  
  
everyone worked hard.  
  
Danielle had a big part in the ballet portion of the opera, she was extremely good. Her parents had started  
  
her in ballet when she was really young, and now she was even good enough to give lessons on the side. The brunette  
  
was working with the corps de ballet, all of them striving to move in unison, to compliment one another. Dipping  
  
together, every movement, really, reminding Élise of a moving watercolor picture. The costumes dazzled her, and she  
  
loved everything about the opera.  
  
"Non, non!" The ballet mistress clapped her hands, drawing the corps' attention to her. "Arrêt! We shall  
  
have a break. Danielle, I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're not putting in your full potential."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mme Rousseau."  
  
"Is anything wrong?"  
  
"No." Danielle smiled a bit. "I'm okay. But... a rest would be welcome."  
  
The corps de ballet flocked to her after the mistress pulled another ballerina aside to talk to her, asking  
  
about her well-being, like a flock of sparrows over crumbs on the floor. Small, excitable, and always ready to pick  
  
up a new topic to gossip over.  
  
Élise didn't call out to Danielle, instead, found pleasure in just being an observer. Soon, Mme Rousseau  
  
called the corps de ballet back to attention.  
  
"Now, in your positions. We don't have all day..."  
  
The ballerinas got back into position, sinking into a plié, hands held delicately, their bodies, posed and  
  
ready.  
  
"Now, follow my beat. We start on three. Prêt? Un, deux, trois, un, deux, trois..." As Mme Rousseau counted  
  
slowly, the ballerinas came to life, striving for harmony and timing. All of them had to be in complete unison, and  
  
Danielle performed flawlessly, the very picture of fluid beauty. Her face shone with a serenity Élise yearned for.  
  
It was so... natural. That was how she wished to sing. Danielle merged with the sea of dancers, completely  
  
disappearing, undefinable from the others. The beat quickened in a crescendo, patterns drawn out with their bodies,  
  
collapsing, drawing other patterns... breathlessly, Élise watched. It was all so clever.  
  
"Magnifique!" Mme Rousseau exclaimed, when they came to the final movements of their dance.  
  
Someone else agreed too, as the sound of a pair of hands clapping, seemed to echo and reverberate throughout  
  
the auditorium.  
  
"Bravo, mesdames... bravo..."  
  
Élise recognized that voice. She would recognize it anywhere. Only one voice, in all the years she lived,  
  
had ever sounded like that. Mme Rousseau tried to look past the blinding stagelights, to the seats. The voice, she  
  
was sure, came from higher up. Not being able to see anyone, she grinned anyways, and motioned to the dancers to  
  
come forward.  
  
"Someone thinks you girls won't do poorly this week! Say thank you, girls!"  
  
"Merci, monsieur!" Their girlish voices echoed in the large space. There was no answer.  
  
Élise looked up, towards the private boxes that were rented, or bought by the rich. In one box, box number  
  
five, she was sure, the gleam of light off something that she was sure were opera-glasses...  
  
The hair on the back of her neck stood on ends, like it did just yesterday when she was underground.  
  
The opera-glasses, she was sure, were directed at her.  
  
Getting up from her seat, she ran out of the auditorium, to the lobby. None of the ballerinas noticed she  
  
left. Most of them didn't even know she had been here. She found the staircase she needed,  
  
and bound up the steps, two at a time, despite the pain it caused her.  
  
Bursting through the first set, then the second set of drapes that seperated Box 5 from the hallway, she  
  
stood there, breathing heavily, her chest burning from the exercise.  
  
On the ledge, was a pair of old-fashioned opera glasses.  
  
She picked it up, felt how utterly cold to the touch it was. And she looked around the box, knowing she  
  
would see no-one.  
  
"Hello?" Élise's voice was soft. "Monsieur?"  
  
Licking her lips, she tried again, feeling utterly ridiculous at talking to... nothing. But in her heart,  
  
she believed, whoever it was, could definitely hear her.  
  
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur." Élise placed the opera glasses back where she had found them. "For... helping me  
  
that day--"  
  
"Has anyone seen Élise?" One of the stagehands came on stage, interrupting the ballerinas.  
  
"No, she wasn't here." Danielle cast a look around. "Maybe if you tried with the chorus...?"  
  
"Up here!" Élise leaned over the railing and shouted, waving.  
  
"Élise!" The stagehand--she recognized him now, it was John--called to her. "What are you doing up there?!  
  
Anyways, the chorus needs you! They're in their usual spot!"  
  
"Right away!" The small girl called down.  
  
~~~  
  
"Our star has arrived!"  
  
The scene was a panic. People were running to and fro in the hallways, preparing, shooing out members of the  
  
press that had managed to sneak in...  
  
Bianca Castafiore! The Milanese nightingale! Here!  
  
It seemed the soprano that would be the star of the show, in true prima donna fashion, had arrived  
  
fashionably late. And she wanted to start rehearsing, right away.  
  
"Why did she arrive so late?" Élise had to jog to keep up with John's quick steps.  
  
"Something to do with the girl that follows her around everywhere. Got really sick. So after several days of  
  
tending the girl, she finally had to leave without her." John glanced at his watch, and quickened his steps again.  
  
"That's where you come in."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"The soprano states that she needs one girl to wait on her hand and foot. A lot of people are clamouring for  
  
the job... but we really can't spare them." The excited buzz of the chorus girls could be heard, and voices climbing  
  
scales and descending in a chaotic mix. Then, all was silent.  
  
And she could feel goosebumps ripple up and down her back.  
  
The highly trained voice of a prima donna, echoed up and down the passage.  
  
"There she is."  
  
Élise's heart was fluttering like a caged butterfly. Sure, she's heard soprano's sing before. But to serve  
  
at one's feet? To listen to them? She wondered if she would faint. Quietly, they entered the room, so they wouldn't  
  
interrupt the Soprano's song.  
  
"Ah, my beauty past compare; these jewels bright I wear!"  
  
There was complete silence, except for that voice. When the song came to an end, there was thunderous  
  
applause, and the girls were squealing and asking questions.  
  
"Powerful stuff, isn't it?" John shook his head briefly.  
  
"Ah, please, please!" The smiling Castafiore looked around. "Questions, I will answer soon. But please, a  
  
drink of water...?"  
  
Élise was at the woman's side in a second, breathlessly offering a glass, and pouring her some water from a  
  
pitcher of water that is always in the chorus room.  
  
"Ah, you are fast." The soprano smiled, then frowned, and reached out a hand bejewelled with gemstones. "But  
  
my dear, what happened to your face?"  
  
"I--" Élise was aware of eyes, boring into the back of her head. "--I fell."  
  
"Are you to be my assistant for the duration of my stay here?" The soprano looked behind her and regarded  
  
John. "Is this the one?"  
  
"Oui, Signora."   
  
Bianca Castafiore smiled. "Well, you're a small one. But I guess you'll have to do, since my Irma is sick.  
  
Come, we have much to do."  
  
"Signora," A harried looking man walked in with a briefcase and several sheafs of score under his arm. "I  
  
have the music, and they say the stage is ready for you."  
  
"Ah, beautiful!" Bianca Castafiore motioned him forward, and placed a hand on Élise's shoulder. "Igor, meet  
  
my new little helper... ah, where are my manners! What is your name, girl?"  
  
"Élise Chagny, signora."  
  
"Indeed," The Milanese Nightingale nodded. "Élise, this is my accompanist, Igor Wagner."  
  
"It's a pleasure," Igor smiled.  
  
"Now, we shall start, shall we not? And I must say, I have a lot of work to catch up on." The Signora  
  
chuckled to herself. "Come on, Igor, Élise; to work!"  
  
~~~  
  
"You ready to go yet?" Danielle winced, and held her cellphone away from her ear. Anna's voice could be  
  
heard, furiously going a mile a minute. "Your sister's outside in a no park zone, and she's getting pissed."  
  
"In a minute, she's almost done." Élise nodded in the direction of the Soprano. The prima donna had insisted  
  
on staying an hour or so behind to rehearse. The chorus had left already, and Élise was the only one there besides  
  
Castafiore's accompanist. Well, there was also Danielle.  
  
"You go ahead first, just... distract her for a bit. I'll be right there." Élise pleaded. Danielle sighed,  
  
and ruffled the girl's hair.  
  
"Okay. But you get your ass out there soon, okay?" Picking up her duffel bag with her dancing gear in it,  
  
Danielle left.  
  
True to Élise's prediction, Bianca Castafiore stopped after ten minutes.  
  
"Dio, my throat is parched!"  
  
Right away, Élise was there with a glass of water.  
  
"Ah, thank you, Élise." The soprano looked at her accompanist, who was sagging at the piano. They had just  
  
arrived today, and the jetlag was wearing down the poor man. "I suppose we could call it a day. You will be here  
  
tomorrow, Élise? At one o'clock sharp?"  
  
"Oui, signora."  
  
"Excellent, most excellent." The Milanese Nightingale clapped her hands in delight. "My purse, if you  
  
please."  
  
Élise ran backstage, and came back with a purse, handed it to the soprano. With a flourish, the singer  
  
produced a twenty euro banknote and slipped it into Élise's hands.  
  
"Signora, non, I cannot accept--"  
  
"Hush! You have been very good today." The signora winked. "I will see you tomorrow."  
  
Élise opened and closed her mouth, then nodded. "Merci, signora."  
  
"Perhaps tomorrow, they will have a dressing room for me?"  
  
"I will tell them, signora."  
  
Bianca beamed. "Such a nice girl! Now, Mr Wagner, lets go~!"  
  
The two exited the stage, and Élise was alone there. She felt so happy... and a bit sad. Would this be the  
  
closest she'll get to her dream?  
  
The lights were still on. And glancing around and up at the ceiling to make sure there was no-one there, she  
  
walked slowly to the middle of the stage, and imagined a full house night. And she was the star of the show.  
  
Slowly, she started singing one of the songs the Milanese Nightingale had been rehearsing, and imagined some  
  
members of the audience, moved to tears at her performance.  
  
"Child... your voice is sweet..."  
  
Élise stopped and blushed.  
  
"But... it lacks training." The voice paused, then continued again, soothingly. It was as if someone had  
  
swooped down from the tops of the Opera House and stood in front of her. And her senses were blasted with that slow  
  
music that had haunted her, bringing her down to her knees in tears. Everything she had thought was beautiful to  
  
hear... proved a lie in the face of such a voice.  
  
"Monsieur," Élise knew it was a male, from the tenor of the voice. She did not know if she spoke to a *man*,  
  
though. No person alive could sound so angelic. "Monsieur, who are you?"  
  
"I... am the Angel of Music." The Angel's voice quivered in laughter for a second. Then she could feel  
  
fingers, lightly touching her throat, but saw no-one. "And I. I shall be your tutor, Élise. Your voice is worthy."  
  
The presence left then, and she knew it was gone. The music had left the air, she felt like her entire body  
  
tingled, the blows that she suffered on her body didn't hurt anymore.  
  
"Hello?" She looked around the auditorium. But no-one was there. She knelt there in a stupor, for a few  
  
seconds. Then she stood up, and exited, stage left.  
  
Élise had never before felt such a feeling of wonder. When the angel had touched her throat, it felt like  
  
warm molten gold had flowed from those invisible fingers and coated the insides of her larynx. And she believed with  
  
the same blind trust and ferocity as she did when she was young, and her mother told her stories of how the Angel of  
  
Music had come down and touched the life of her great-great grandmother.  
  
She believed, she believed, oh God, she believed!  
  
Élise stumbled outside, and only by Anna and Danielle's alarmed attitudes did she realize she had not  
  
stopped weeping since the voice of the Angel had brought her to her knees. 


	4. Water Under The Bridge

Beneath the Opera House: Water Under The Bridge  
  
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction  
  
immo - immo@hamena.org  
  
No comment is bad comment. So review! You think I'm out of character, help me out a bit! I'm still in the stage of  
  
developing characters. And remember, as I'm writing, I'm also bogged down by exams! So some of this might not make  
  
sense for reason! Because I am not making sense! :D  
  
Reviewreviewsreviews keeps the immo chugging out more of this stuff. Is that good? Is that bad? Who knows! Wow, I'm  
  
really on a roll here. That's, what, 4 chapters in 2 days?  
  
~~~  
  
It had all been a dream, she was sure of it.  
  
There had been no angel, Élise thought bitterly. Only the overactive imagination of a girl.  
  
But she had been so certain... her throat still tingled with gold.  
  
"Maybe you were knocked upside the head a bit too hard." Danielle had looked at her doubtfully, when,  
  
weeping, she had poured out the story to the two women who waited for her at the car.  
  
"Sweetheart, do you miss maman?" Anna looked at Élise sadly.  
  
Élise didn't fault her sister for feeling that way. When her mother had died, she would make up stories,  
  
tell her sister that she saw their maman in the moonlight and that she told her she loved her. Argued, that when the  
  
flowers on their windowsills died because nobody watered them, it was really because that was just her maman showing  
  
she was sad that papa was so sad.  
  
She had been obsessed with the figure of the Angel of Music. When she and her sister were little, their  
  
mother would tell them stories of the Angel of Music. Stories passed down through generations, for little girls to  
  
hear. To hold dear when thunderstorms frightened them.  
  
Élise had even arrived early, to search for her angel. Had stood there on stage and called, and a voice had  
  
answered.  
  
"I'm here, I'm here! Your angel, baby! Give me some sugar!"  
  
Raucous laughter chased her all the way off the stage. She had forgotten that the light crew was here early  
  
as well.  
  
Élise was taking a break now. The signora had gone to take a nap in her new dressing room.  
  
"What's wrong, Élee?" Danielle rarely used her nickname with her unless she was very concerned.  
  
"Its... its nothing." Élise cracked a smile.  
  
"Where's the prima donna?" Danielle cast a look about. From the tone of Danielle's voice, Élise could tell  
  
the ballerina wasn't impressed by the star at all. "She let you off your leash?"  
  
"She's sleeping."  
  
Danielle laughed derisively. "Her royalty gets tired so easily. She could stand to lose a few pounds. Even  
  
Missy Elliot did it, you know, for health reasons."  
  
"Danielle!" Nini, one of the ballerinas called for the brunette. "Could you help me out with something?"  
  
"Be right back, okay?" Danielle winked, then went off to see what the girl needed.  
  
Several youngsters were sitting around in their tutus. They were supposed to play cherubs, but right now  
  
they were also resting. The smallest one, named Elaine, was stealing glances at Élise when she thought the older  
  
girl wasn't looking.  
  
"Hey," Élise caught the little girl looking at her, and smiled kindly to show she wasn't angry. "What are  
  
you looking at?"  
  
Elaine looked at Élise with glowing eyes. "J-Justine said that-that George said you see angels. Do you  
  
really?"  
  
The other little girl next to Elaine peeked out from over Elaine's shoulder, regarding Élise shyly.  
  
"Well," Élise blushed, embarassed. So the story was going around. Courtesy of George, one of the stage guys.  
  
It must have been him who had called out to her.  
  
"It's a story my maman used to tell me." On a whim, Élise offered to tell them the story, and squealing  
  
'oui's answered her.  
  
"Well, girls. There once was a young singer, who wasn't very good." Élise smiled sadly. "She would try her  
  
best, the best that she could, but she couldn't sing. You see, she had lost her papa--"  
  
Élise hadn't realized until now how much that story reflected her situation.  
  
"And? And?"  
  
Élise smiled, and trudged on. "When her papa died, she was very sad. But he told her, 'Don't be sad. When I  
  
go to heaven, I'll send you an Angel of Music'. And she waited for so long, but no angel was sent to her. And she  
  
stopped believing in heaven."  
  
"Non!" The little girls gasped dramatically, getting into the story. Élise laughed, and allowed little  
  
Justine to crawl into her lap to listen to her.  
  
"Oui. One day, though, while she was in her dressing room, she heard the most beautiful voice in the world!  
  
And it was the very angel that the poor girl's father had told her about!" Now Élise was caught up in the story,  
  
seeing how much the children liked it. And she had to admit, it was her favorite childhood story. "And the voice  
  
promised to help her get better, and she--"  
  
"Never got better at singing. She remained a dellusional girl who's too poor to get proper singing lessons."  
  
Kristin sat down right beside Élise and gave the girl a smug grin. "Bonjour, Élise. As soon as I came in, and  
  
George told me about your 'visions', I decided to have a little talk with you."  
  
"Angels are real!" Justine protested, looking ready to cry.  
  
"Of course they are, little one." Kristin chuckled, eyes never leaving Élise's. "But... angels don't appear  
  
to those who are unworthy."  
  
Before Élise could stop herself, she hissed out. "I *am* worthy."  
  
"Oho!" Kristin grinned, happy that she was getting a rise out of the usually docile girl. "I heard your  
  
happy little story, Élise. And it was... a nice story, wasn't it, children?"  
  
"Oui!" Justine and Elaine both agreed.  
  
"Okay now, shoo, see what Mme Rousseau can do with you two! Élise and I have to talk." The children nodded,  
  
and scattered. When the were gone, Kristin smirked at Élise. "Children should always retain their innocence, don't  
  
you think?"  
  
The young Chagny bit on her lip to stop from replying. If she rose to the bait, Kristin would just continue  
  
torturing her. If she didn't, the chorus girl would leave her alone.  
  
"Oh, look, Élise! An angel!" Kristin gasped mockingly, as George pranced into her view, wearing a pair of  
  
wings. "Mon dieu, who knew they existed?"  
  
Just... don't say anything...  
  
Élise refused to give Kristin the satisfaction of seeing her cry.  
  
"Kristin!" Danielle was heading towards them, a storm brewing in her eyes. "Leave her ALONE!"  
  
Kristin eyed the approaching woman, and turned back to Élise carelessly, leaning in close to whisper into  
  
Élise's ear.  
  
"You and I both know your mother was never right in the head. Even before she got cancer in her brain. She  
  
was crazy. Huh. Maybe that's where you got it from, huh?"  
  
Élise shot out of her seat, tears streaming down her face, and ran for the exit.  
  
She heard Danielle calling out her name, but she kept running. George laughed, dancing after her, only  
  
leaving when she had flown through the auditorium doors.  
  
"You--"  
  
"Uh-uh." Kristin stood up, still smiling. "Careful what you say, Danielle."  
  
"Why don't you just leave her alone?!" Danielle hissed. She pointed over at George, who was now flirting  
  
with the ballerinas. "That was overkill! Why can't you just let the past die?! Or since you like hurting her so  
  
much, why don't you just get her kicked out of the Opera House?!"  
  
"Let the past die?" Kristin's voice was ice-cold now. "No. What I did just there, that was not overkill. And  
  
kicking her out, please, Danielle. Do I look like a fool? I'd have way more fun with her here. If she's so unhappy  
  
here, she should leave by herself."  
  
"Please, Kristin."  
  
"You chose your side, Danielle." Kristin's beautiful face was twisted into an ugly visage. "And since you  
  
were my friend, I'm not going to hurt you unless you get in my way. I'm going to make Élise feel worst than what I  
  
felt when--" Kristin's jaw clamped down on the words that were going to come out. Then she turned on her heels and  
  
headed out the way Élise went.  
  
"Its not good for our dear Élise to get a big head. Even though she's serving the Milanese Nightingale, she  
  
should remember that no matter who's she serving, it still makes her a servant." Kristin turned around to smile at  
  
Danielle. "Poor Élise has all these dreams... its better for me to tell her they'll never come true, instead of her  
  
trying and trying, but never succeeding. N'est-ce pas?"  
  
~~~  
  
"Hey, what's the hurry!" Élise bumped into Sean as she ran out of the Opera House. "Hey... Élise? What's  
  
wrong?"  
  
"I-I--" She couldn't seem to get the words out through the sobs.  
  
"Is it Kristin?!" Sean grasped her shoulders. "Look at me: Is it that fucking girl? That's it. She's dead."  
  
"Non, Sean... no!" Her mind raced to find an appropriate lie, and she quickly picked one, which wasn't  
  
really a lie. "Non, Sean, I just miss my mother."  
  
His face scrunched up into a frown, and he looked at her suspiciously, trying to see if she was lying or  
  
not. Finally, something gave, and his stance relaxed.  
  
"You okay?" Sean lead her to the side so they could sit on the steps without blocking people going exiting  
  
and entering the Paris Opera House. "What set it off?"  
  
"Its just... well, there were children dressed as angels, singing..." Élise was grabbing at straws here.  
  
"Ah," Sean nodded sagely. "The Angel of Music story. I remember you telling me about that."  
  
"Well, they were telling the children angels don't exist--" Élise started blubbering again. Even though the  
  
story was partly fabrication, how much Kristin's words had effected her, wasn't.  
  
"Ha, that's it?" Sean grinned at her. "Come on, Élise, you know people like those!"  
  
Élise looked up at Sean miserably.  
  
"They don't believe in angels. So they'll never see any angels." Sean kissed the trails of her tears away.  
  
"You believe in angels, right? It doesn't matter what other people think, you'll see your angels one day. And those  
  
people? They'll be missing out."  
  
"You don't think I'm stupid and childish?" Élise smiled up at him, and he kissed her again.  
  
"Ha, of course I do!"  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"But," Sean raised up a hand. "That's what I like about you."  
  
"You like it when I'm childish?"  
  
"Damn right."  
  
"Ewww, I'm dating a pedophile!" Élise teased.  
  
"Well, pedophile am I?" Sean growled playfully. "I'm just going to eat you up right here!"  
  
He alternated between nipping at her ears, to kissing her, reducing her giggling to soft sighs.  
  
"Better?" Sean pressed his forehead against hers.  
  
"Much." Élise smiled.  
  
"Hey, aren't you supposed to be looking after that.. uh.. Malaysian Nightingale or something?" The dark-eyed  
  
boy looked around. "Where is she?"  
  
"Oh, damnit!" Élise cursed softly. "She's going to be waking up any minute now, Sean. I'm sorry, I can't  
  
stay."  
  
"That's okay, I, um, just dropped by to get you this." He passed her a styrofoam box.  
  
"Crêpes!" Élise almost squealed in glee. What it was was a thin pancake wrapped in, well, whatever you liked  
  
to put in it. Élise liked chocolate icecream, strawberries, and whipped cream in hers. Which was exactly what Sean  
  
brought.  
  
"Yeah, thought you would like it." Sean leaned forward and kissed her again, sweetly. "Do you mind if I drop  
  
by tonight?"  
  
"No problem." Élise gave him one last kiss before running back up the steps. "I'll see you tonight!"  
  
Élise raced back into the Opera House, to Bianca Castafiore's dressing room where she was just waking up.  
  
"Élise, ah, you are here." Signora Castafiore sat up and stretched. "Be a dear and find my accompanist and  
  
Monsieur Rains that I am ready to sing again."  
  
"At once, signora." Élise couldn't help the smile that came to her lips when the signora struggled to get  
  
up off the couch. Danielle's words came back to her, and she could imagine the girl doing one of her famous  
  
imitations of people, as she ran off to do as she was told.  
  
~~~  
  
INSOLENT FOOL! He dared to mock the Angel of Music?!  
  
His wrath was deadly, and he peered down from the chandelier, watching the boy.  
  
And he had made Élise cry. More and more, the girl reminded him of her great-grandmother... after he heard  
  
the story, he did not doubt at all. Who this was. That was why he woke up. Tears was really the heart bleeding. Such  
  
innocence... such INSOLENCE will not go unpunished!  
  
This was the Phantom's second chance.  
  
But as spirits were wont to do, they were compelled to do, to behave as they did in life.  
  
So he stalked the boy, and watched him, and whispered into his ears. Laughed, so that only George heard him  
  
laugh. All day, in his head. Pushing him towards the edge...  
  
"You don't believe in angels, boy? You don't believe in angels?"  
  
Nobody was allowed to hurt Christine. Nobody.  
  
"Then perhaps, George, yes, I know you... perhaps... you believe in demons?"  
  
Christine... Christine... have you come back to me? 


	5. Accidents Happen

Beneath the Opera House: Accidents Happen  
  
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction  
  
immo - immo@hamena.org  
  
Slowing down... need to... procrastinate leaving... school must start for creativity to flow! Procrastination in the  
  
key to more stories from me! And review also! Keep'em coming! :D  
  
~~~  
  
"Did you hear?" The corps de ballet were abuzz with the news. "Did you hear?"  
  
One of the stagehands, George, was found dead in the Paris Canal!  
  
"They said he was wearing those wings from the night before!"  
  
"Élise did it, I heard!"  
  
"Non!"  
  
"Oui!" One of the gossipy ones, a haughty young woman named Janice continued eagerly. "You saw how George  
  
was upsetting her yesterday!"  
  
"She wouldn't!"  
  
"You know what they say, its always the quiet ones--"  
  
"Shh, Danielle's here!"  
  
"Danielle's here!"  
  
The corps de ballet fell into uncustomary silence as Danielle walked into the room, and busied themselves  
  
with warm-up exercises.  
  
"Okay, what's going on?" Danielle dropped her bag down, and placed her hands on her hips, exasperated.  
  
They all tried to blurt it out at the same time, but she caught enough of what was being said to feel the  
  
smile drop from her face, and an icy anger grip her insides.  
  
"That's enough, guys."  
  
"Why?" Was Janice's reply to Danielle's warning. "Everyone knows she did it!"  
  
"You're friends with her, Danielle, did the police go to her house last night?"  
  
"Yeah, did they?"  
  
"No..." Danielle's voice was slow, and even. She was trying so hard to keep a grip on her control. "They  
  
didn't. And for the last time, drop the subject."  
  
"The police probably did show up and Danielle's just being nice--"  
  
Danielle's hand shooting out and catching the scruff of Janice's sweatshirt cut her off. "No. There was no  
  
police. Élise did NOT do it. DROP THE SUBJECT. This is *me* being nice."  
  
The whole room had fallen into stunned silence. Danielle was always the nice, easy to get along with girl.  
  
"Girls, what's going on?!" Mme Rousseau had just entered the class. Danielle loosened her grip on Janice's  
  
shirt.  
  
"Nothing." Danielle wasn't eager to get Mme Rousseau involved. Janice was following on the same frame of  
  
mind and echoed Danielle's explanation.  
  
"I don't believe that." Mme Rousseau said after a moment's pause. "I want to see both of you in my office,  
  
right now."  
  
A murmur arose from the corps de ballet as the two girls left, following on the heels of Mme Rousseau.  
  
The three made it to the office, and stood there, waiting. Mme Rousseau poured herself a cup of tea, before  
  
rounding on her two dancers.  
  
"Well? Would either one like to explain?" Her question was met with silence. "Well, that's fine. Pick up  
  
your things, girls. You're taking the day off. I don't want to teach brawlers."  
  
"But madam--!" Janice started, but was cut off by a sharp look from the ballet mistress.  
  
"It was my fault, ma'am." Danielle said quietly.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"It was my fault. I started it." Danielle shrugged. "I was upset."  
  
Mme Rousseau looked at her favorite student, for indeed, Danielle was her favorite student. Danielle never  
  
picked a fight! She was always the most friendly girl in the corps! Well... she could see Danielle picking a fight,  
  
but not without reason. But she couldn't show favoritism.  
  
"Danielle, I'm sorry, but I think you should take the day off." Mme Rousseau's lips pressed together.  
  
"Janice, you may go back to the others. I would like a word with Danielle alone."  
  
Janice cast a glance at Danielle, and wished she hadn't when she met the dark-haired girl's furious gaze.  
  
The ballerina hurried out the door, and away from the office.  
  
"Now," Mme Rousseau motioned to the couch that sat in the corner of the room. "Tell me what happened,  
  
Danielle."  
  
"It was nothing, Mme Rousseau." The darkness in Danielle's eyes spoke volumes. The ballet mistress felt a  
  
bit of fear, Danielle was rarely angry. And the only other times she had been like this was when she was defending  
  
little Élise from the choir-girl, Kristin.  
  
"It was Élise, wasn't it."  
  
Danielle's eyes darted away from Mme Rousseau's, and she knew she had hit right on the mark.  
  
"That girl, Danielle, is ruining your career as a dancer." Mme Rousseau crossed her arms, and leaned a hip  
  
on her desk. "Lately I've been seeing you're distracted. And now I see why."  
  
"You remember Anna, right?"  
  
"Of course, she was a talented girl. Shame she had to stop."  
  
"Élise is her little sister." Danielle shrugged. "Anna asked me to watch out for her. Élise loves the opera,  
  
and she refuses to leave. The girl is like a sister to me, and I don't want her hurt. She wants to be a prima donna  
  
one day, do you know? I don't ever want to tell her that her being here is a waste of time. She deserves her  
  
dreams."  
  
"What about your dreams, Danielle? I remember when you were very little, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. You always  
  
wanted to be a dancer."  
  
"Élise isn't holding me back." Danielle smiled wanely. "I don't even know if I really want to stick with  
  
ballet, ma'am."  
  
Mme Rousseau looked aghast. "Danielle, in all my years teaching here, I've never met anyone else with more  
  
talent, more potential than you! You are made for dancing!"  
  
"I think my dreams have changed, ma'am. I love dancing, and I'm pretty sure I will make a career out of it.  
  
What I'm trying to say is, its not my number one priority anymore."  
  
Mme Rousseau sighed. At least her star pupil wasn't leaving. But the fact that Danielle was putting ballet  
  
second to something else was disturbing to her.  
  
"May I ask what your number one priority is?"  
  
Danielle opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Mme Rousseau, pardonnez-moi." The stagehand was in a state of agitation. "But there has been an accident.  
  
One of your dancers--"  
  
Both Danielle and Mme Rousseau shot out of their seats and followed the stagehand. Pandemonium reigned in  
  
the hallways, and the ballerinas were all clustered around an area.  
  
"Out of the way!" People parted for the ballet mistress and Danielle. Underneath a pile of old props, lay  
  
Janice. Her arm was twisted in an odd angle above her head, and she looked around dazedly at the people surrounding  
  
her. A plaster statue of Aphrodite had fallen on her, and though it was plaster, the 8 foot sculpture was still  
  
quite heavy.  
  
"Janice," Danielle knelt down and evaluated the situation. The bust was lying across the girl. She turned  
  
around to look at the stagehands that were just arriving. "Girls, get back! Did someone call an ambulance?!"  
  
"Oui!"  
  
"Boys, boys!" Mme Rousseau caught John's arm, when he tried to move the statue off Janice. "Don't move it  
  
too fast, it might hurt her even more! Janice, are you okay?!"  
  
"Mme Rousseau..." Janice gasped in pain as the pressure on her body was lightened. The statue was lifted off  
  
to the side. "A man..."  
  
"What are you talking about girl?" Mme Rousseau looked up at the crowd, annoyed. "Quiet, all of you! I  
  
cannot hear her!"  
  
"There... was a person..." Janice looked around frantically. "He... he was there. And I asked him who was  
  
there because... I couldn't see in the shadows."  
  
Everybody was quiet as they listened.  
  
"It was a man. He... laughed. And said something, I... and then he pushed the statue... he was wearing a  
  
white mask..."  
  
"You're saying this wasn't an accident?" Danielle said what was on everyone's mind, and a nervous murmur  
  
arose from the crowd, until John's voice broke in.  
  
"That's not possible." John shook his head. "I was right above you, Janice. On the catwalk, do you remember?  
  
I said hello. But you didn't seem to hear me. And then the statue fell on you. I slid down one of these ropes, right  
  
down to you--"  
  
"Monsieur, you know you're not supposed to do that!" Mme Rousseau looked at John, scandalized. "You could  
  
have been seriously hurt!"  
  
"I'm sorry, madam, but I wanted to get down here as soon as possible." John apologized, then continued his  
  
story. "There was no-one there, when Janice told me someone had pushed the statue, I looked around. No-one could  
  
have slipped past me."  
  
The hallways were long, and it was true. Anyone who tried to run from the scene would have been spotted.  
  
"Maybe she saw one of these," A ballerina picked through the debris and held up a mask.  
  
"Non," Janice shook her head, furiously, then cried out in pain at the motion. "Non, it was a man!"  
  
"Nobody was here, madam, I swear to God, no-one was here!" John was not known for making up stories.  
  
"Maybe it was a ghost!" One little ballerina tittered. "Maybe the opera is haunted!"  
  
"There are no such things as ghosts!" Mme Rousseau scoffed. Just then, some poles at the end of the hallway  
  
fell to the ground, causing everyone to jump and the girls to squeal in fright. No-one was near those poles. And  
  
everyone suddenly felt the hairs on the back of their necks prickling. It was cold.  
  
"There are no such things as ghosts." Danielle said loudly, and stood up, looking up and down the hallways.  
  
There was no sound, and Danielle stood there, daring something to happen. But nothing did. The room's temperature  
  
rose back up to normal, as sounds of footsteps hurried towards them. One of the managers of the opera and several  
  
medics were heading their way.  
  
"Ah, mon dieu!" The manager, Monsieur Antoine, clucked his tongue at the sight of Janice. "Quickly, we must  
  
get her to the hospital!"  
  
Everyone scattered away now, so that Janice could be transported away. They could still hear her, as they  
  
wheeled her away.  
  
"There was someone there! I wasn't seeing things! Someone was there!"  
  
~~~  
  
"Hey."  
  
Anna looked up from the file she had been reading. There was Danielle, leaning against her car, with the  
  
biggest shit-eating grin on her face.  
  
"Danielle!" Squealing, she jumped into the other girl's arms, and the ballerina almost slid off Anna's car.  
  
"Woah, woah." Danielle laughed, holding the other in a loose embrace. "I should visit you more often, you're  
  
never this happy to see me."  
  
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Opera House?" Anna's smile faded, and a trace of concern  
  
entered her voice. "Is it Élise? Is she alright?"  
  
"No, she's alright." Danielle reassured. "I just came to see you. Have you had dinner yet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You go home and park your car, I'll follow you. Then I'll take you out for dinner, alright?" Danielle let  
  
go of Anna and went around to her car.  
  
After Anna parked her car at home, she got into Danielle's car, and smiled at the other woman. Danielle  
  
pulled away from the curb, and catching Anna staring, smirked at her. "What?"  
  
"Its just, we haven't gone out for dinner in a while."  
  
Danielle's smirk softened into a smile. "I know." Then casually, "I missed you, you know?"  
  
"You're blush-ing!" Anna teased.  
  
"I'm not!" Danielle blushed some more.  
  
Anna covered the hand Danielle was using to shift gears. "I missed you too, dummy."  
  
~~~  
  
"Once again, Mr Wagner, if you please."  
  
"Of course, Signora." Igor Wagner played tirelessly.  
  
Élise just sat there next to the man, watching Bianca Castafiore sing... and if Bianca Castafiore lacked  
  
anything, it certainly wasn't power.  
  
Again, it was late night practises. Élise just floated on the music. This, she was sure, was heaven. Well,  
  
as close to heaven as she could get. She believed in angels, and she desperately, desperately needed to hold on to  
  
that one belief.  
  
"Do you sing, Élise?"  
  
"Pardon, signora?" Élise shook herself out of her reverie.  
  
"I asked you, child, do you sing?" Signora Castafiore smiled at Élise dotingly. "You have a beautiful voice.  
  
Sing this chorus for me, would you not?"  
  
"I-I can't sing, signora." Élise blushed. "I don't have the voice."  
  
"Who told you that?" Castafiore scoffed. "I would consider myself a good judge of a voice. I have heard you  
  
humming some bars of Faust, and I know you're not tone-deaf. Come, come, don't be shy! Sing for me!"  
  
Élise slid off the piano bench, and looked over at Igor shyly.  
  
"Go ahead." Igor encouraged. "Two bars introduction enough, Élise?"  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"The Jewel Song, mademoiselle." Bianca Castafiore urged.  
  
Élise waited for her opening, and missed it. Blushing she murmured an apology and sat back down.  
  
"No shyness, girl!" Castafiore yanked her back up. "I want to hear you sing! Mr Wagner, once again!"  
  
This time, Élise found her opening just right, and put her heart into singing for the Milanese Nightingale.  
  
She sang with all her might, and when she was done, the prima donna was nodding her head in pleasure.  
  
"You sing very prettily, you voice is good. But..." Bianca placed her hand on Élise's abdomen. "You see  
  
right here? You use your lungs to sing, and only your lungs. Your diaphragm is where you should be singing from."  
  
"I've never had lessons, signora." Élise admitted grudgingly.  
  
"A voice like yours?" Bianca tsked. "Its a shame."  
  
"I can't afford it, signora."  
  
"We will have to remedy that, my dear." Bianca smiled at her. "That's enough for today, child. We can all go  
  
home and rest."  
  
"See you tomorrow!" Élise smiled and waved. She was alone on stage again. Looking up to make sure none of  
  
the stagehands were around, she opened her mouth to call out for her angel, but shut her mouth at once. All the  
  
doubts that Kristin had put in her flooded back, and she bit her lip in consternation. But Sean's words shone,  
  
through, and she got up the courage to call out.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
The lights flickered.  
  
"I am glad to see, that you have not lost faith." The voice was there again. "I am glad."  
  
"I believe in you, monsieur, I do."  
  
"You do, I believe you do." Élise could sense a hint of a smile in the voice. "I will teach you, Élise  
  
Chagny. You will be a gift to the world. You will suffer for your art, though. I taught someone once, Élise. They  
  
disappointed me. You must deny yourself a life that's normal to be my voice. Could you do that?"  
  
"I could." Élise said without hesitation.  
  
"We shall see. I will see you, every morning at eight o'clock for two hours. You will meet me in the room at  
  
the end of the hallway, and we will train your voice."  
  
"The one they found me in," Élise remembered Danielle telling her how they had found her in a storage room.  
  
"In the storage room?"  
  
"It was once the dressing room my past pupil. It has fallen to disuse." His voice was firm. "Soon, I will  
  
make it so the room is fit for you. Now go, child. You have a long day tomorrow." 


End file.
